My So Called Zero Mission
by Father Hulk
Summary: The novelization of Metroid Zero Mission! More than just what happens on your screen, I assure you. Chapter 3 up May 20, 2007
1. A Good, Clean Raid

**My So-Called Zero Mission**

_An Interpretation_

By Father Hulk

**A/N: **_Greetings! Hot on the heels of The Galactic Tribunal comes my novelization of **Metroid: Zero Mission.**__(Quick! Guess what series I'm into right now?) Anywho, I'm sure I could go on for several of the opening chapters detailing Samus's childhood and the destruction of her home thanks to Ridley, and then her being raised by the Chozo, and all that jibberjabber. However, I want my storytelling to focus mostly on the events in and surrounding the game, with, of course, the magical flair provided by St. Eva's providence. So, enjoy!_

**Special A/N: **_This story will contain no Samus/Ridleyshipping. So for the seemingly… large crowd that enjoys this, I apologize._

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_Planet Zebes: a big copper marking on the blackness of outer space. It was once home to many peaceful civilizations and a variety of exotic creatures. But that's all over now. Its surface is barren and rocky, and all the life now exists below it. It is said that a mythical race called the Chozo once dwelt here, and some say that remnants of their society remain hidden in the Zebesian caverns. But none that go looking ever return. The Galactic Federation has condemned this planet and deemed it useless. All hope is lost for Zebes… at least, for now._

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"Commander Johanson reporting, sir!"

"Yes, commander," said the Federation General as his lower-ranked comrade entered the conference room, "What news?"

"P.O.G.I. seems to be lying low, sir," Johanson said, walking in further. "All we've heard about them is a small string of ore mine attacks two systems away from Tallon IV."

"You mean the Rubald-A series of planets?" the General inquired.

"Yes sir," the Commander replied. "They broke in, stole all the ore, the money they'd kept safe, and left. No deaths, no hostages."

"What kind of ore was it?"

"Copperphite, sir. It's often used to supply large amounts of power to ships and machinery."

"I know what Copperphite is, damn it!" the General snapped, and then he sighed and went to a computer terminal on the wall and typed in several commands. The screen above him flashed to life, and displayed a portion of the surrounding galaxies, with several red X's in various positions.

"It doesn't seem to make any sense," the General muttered. "They've stolen incredible quantities of trillium-carbonic alloy from 3 different plants on as many planets; they emptied Planet Marumari's entire weapons warehouse; and then they landed all the way out on Godforsaken SR388, stayed there for a month, and there's no record of them even bringing anything back! And now this Copperphite robbery… and in each and every case, they killed nobody!"

"Is that so hard to believe?" the Commander asked, scratching his head.

"You forget," the General reminded him, "that we're dealing with the Pirates for the Overthrow of Galactic Independence. They're usually ruthless and reckless in their doings. But now all they seem to be doing is gathering materials. I wonder what Ridley is thinking…"

"Ridley, sir?" the Commander asked, quizzically.

The General looked skyward. "Ridley is the leader of P.O.G.I. He commands their armies with the help of his newest creation: a half-mechanical, half-organic life form called the Mother Brain."

"What does it do?" the Commander inquired.

"It's like the hive mind of the space pirates. It gives orders and controls their battle outposts, it carries out battle plans and navigates their ships. It's just that…" The General paused mid-sentence.

"It's just that what, sir?" The Commander asked after a moment.

The General sighed. "It's just that, the Mother Brain has such enormous power, it seems foolish to have it do such simple things as fly ships and keep stations up and running. They were doing all that fine before. That's what worries me: I think the pirates have built the Mother Brain for something else altogether."

The Commander and General walked to the window together. The window looked out into the starscape outside the Federation's flying HQ. Several small ships could be seen docking and leaving, running small errands or going on official Federation business.

"I want to know what their plan is," the General spat. "I want to know why they're taking all this stuff, and I want to know what that damn wrinkled monstrosity is for!" He pounded on the glass once with his fist.

The Commander spoke again after choosing his words carefully, "I think we'll find out soon enough." The General shot a glare in his direction, and the Commander took a step back and said, "… Won't we? I mean, come on, they've got to be planning something."

The General continued to stare, then said finally, "Yes… they are planning something, aren't they?" He stalked back to the computer terminal.

The Commander gingerly followed him, saying, "I'm sorry if I misspoke, sir."

The General waved his hand. "Forget about it. Listen, I have a little job for you. Our recruitment facility is overseeing the training of a new group of potential soldiers. I want you to go there and see if any of them stand out. It's been a while since we had some true strength on our hands, and I have a feeling we're going to need it soon."

"Yes, sir!" the Commander said with a salute, and he turned and left the room.

Left alone in the conference room, the General sighed again, and then turned to the computer terminal and pulled up the file photo of Ridley. After staring at it for several minutes, he murmured, "Ridley, you winged bastard… what's on your mind… Both of them?"


	2. POGI

**Chapter 2**

_Pirates for the Overthrow of Galactic Independence_

Sargent Pantheos was standing in a corner of a large construction garage. He wasn't much different in appearance from the other space pirate foot soldiers: five feet tall and bipedal, the space pirate soldiers were insect-like in their appearance, with large eyes that saw far more than what was in front of them, and a pair of deadly pincers for their hands. However, being of a high rank, Sgt. Pantheos wore a grey, full-metal suit over his skin. This armor was strong enough to endure almost any firepower.

At the other end of the garage, there was a mass quantity of activity around what was slowly becoming a very large space ship. With the ore and materials they had recently acquired, the space pirates were nearing completion of their new Grand Mothership.

As Pantheos watched, his eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he imagined the things they would do in this ship upon its completion; they had slain nobody in the effort to acquire these goods, because the first step they'd take towards galactic domination would be a shock-and-awe destruction sweep, thanks to the power of their new ship. And then, of course, would come Phase 2…

"Sir!" called a voice at Pantheos's side, and the metal-clad officer turned and found another senior officer, named Krulak, standing there.

"What is it?"

"Bad news, I'm afraid," Krulak hissed, snapping his pincers once or twice. "The Federation just opened a trade route with nearby TC-322."

Pantheos cocked his head to the side. "So? That's over a kilomark away."

"Yes, and it would not be a problem, except that one of the Federation ships got lost on its way there, and came into our orbit."

"What are you trying to say?"

"I'm saying, sir, that they probably know we're here! They orbited the planet for almost an hour. They probably scanned the entire surface!"

"Damn it!" Pantheos swore, "I _knew_ we shouldn't have built an above-ground base!"

"If I may ask, weren't you the one who suggest to Lord Ridley that we set up underground?"

"Of course I was!" Pantheos screamed, the small wings on his back fluttering madly. "He didn't listen because he's an ignorant fool."

Krulak took a step back. "I've never heard you speak so about the boss," he said.

"Well it would have happened sooner or later," Pantheos buzzed, as he turned his gaze back to the construction. "Ridley may be invincible in battle, but he's altogether brainless and he's going to wind up being a detriment to this organization."

"I wouldn't say he's brainless, sir," Krulak said. "He _did_ build the Mother Brain."

Pantheos spat. "The Mother Brain only does what its programmed to do. At least, for now. Any fool can build a bloody computer. But once that organic part of it starts learning to refuse orders from Ridley, he'll be powerless," Pantheos punctuated this statement with a laugh, a rough, grinding sound. "Besides, we know the _true_ purpose of the Mother Brain."

Krulak chuckled. "Yes, we do. Oh, about that, Srek-10 wanted to know what we're going to do with the… er, _specimens._"

"Tell him he'll know when I know," Pantheos snapped. "Although I agree, we can't keep them in containment for much longer. They must be getting, how we should say, hungry."

A small, round, green light on the side of Krulak's head began flashing. "I'm needed in another sector," Krulak said after a moment.

"Then go," Pantheos said. "I need to warn Lord Ridley about the Federation."

The two officers turned their backs to one another, and walked in separate directions. In the meantime, several space pirate foot soldiers began carrying a huge laser cannon over to the unfinished hull of the Grand Mothership.


	3. The Federation Recruitment Facility

**Chapter 3**

_The Federation Recruitment Facility_

Commander Johanson's ship came out of hyperspace outside the magnetic field of the Federation Recruitment Facility.

"State your name and purpose," came a transmission over his radio.

"Commander Gerald Johanson, here to survey the progress of the new trainees." He replied.

"Please scan your retina and submit the result to frequency 7.6.31."

Johanson pushed a button on the control panel, and a small, cylindrical device lowered itself from the ceiling. He put his eye to it, and within three seconds it had taken a full scan of his retina. He then pushed another button, and the information was sent over the airwaves.

After a brief crackle of static, the voice on the other end said, 'Thank you. We have confirmed your identity, Commander Johanson. Please dock with us at port 2A."

"That's affirmative," Johanson said, and he switched off his radio. He pulled his ship around to the far side of the station and nestled it into one of the small docking bays.

When he got out, he was greeted by two young staff members in grey suits. "Welcome to the FRF, Commander," one of them said. "Please follow us, we need to check you for contamination."

After being scanned by a large machine further inside, the staff member said, "Okay, Commander, we have confirmed that you were not contaminated by any materials from space during your journey. If you'll just step into the main lobby, I will send for the director."

"Yes, sir," Johanson said, and he followed the two staff members into a slightly larger room, with plain, grey carpeting, a few windows out onto the starscape, several chairs around the perimeter, and a table with a few magazines on it.

"Wait here, please." Said the staff member, and he and his partner strode down an adjacent hallway.

Johanson sighed and sat down. He had just enlisted in the Federation army when work began on this place. Its main purpose was to recruit and train soldiers for immediate entry into the Federation military. The training programs are top-notch, and the officers all veteran Federation senior officers.

The Facility had always relied on volunteers: rarely was there ever a time when the youth of the galaxy weren't eager to protect it. But ever since P.O.G.I. started making itself heard, sign-ups dropped dramatically; the space pirates' reputation increased the fear of death—or worse—by many times. Thus, the Federation had to re-instate the draft; almost all the trainees here had been drafted via e-mail.

Johanson was snapped out of his thoughts by the approach of a tall, dark-skinned man in a white coat. "Hello, Commander," he said, smiling and extending his hand. "I'm Facility Director Buck O'Hayre."

"Pleased to meet you, sir," Johanson replied, standing up and shaking the hand of the director.

"We are greatly honored by your visit," O'Hayre continued. "How may we be of service to you?"

"I've been sent here by the General to check up on the new trainees," Johanson replied. "The Federation is getting a little uneasy about P.O.G.I., so we figured we should start looking for quality soldiers sooner than later."

"I understand," O'Hayre said with a nod. "Well, we're actually conducting obstacle course training right now; if you want, you can watch from the observation room."

"That'd be excellent," Johanson answered.

"Please follow me," O'Hayre said, and he turned and began walking down the far corridor.

O'Hayre led Johanson into a large room that had one wall made entirely out of glass. Through the glass was the training room where the obstacle course was set up; it consisted of laser turrets, rapidly opening and closing floor traps, mechanical remote monsters, and other clever surprises.

"We're just about to start a new run," O'Hayre said as he came up alongside Johanson. Johanson observed about fifteen or twenty individuals standing at the far west end of the room. They were each wearing a loose, orange uniform, a red helmet with an opening for the eyes, and they were each armed with a pistol.

"We start them off in simply the training uniform and pistol," O'Hayre said. "The uniform is thin, but it keeps the trainees safe from laser blasts… at least, the weak blasts of our training equipment."

"And the gun?" Johanson inquired.

"It's nothing more than a stun gun, really. It's for emergency use. But one hit from it will knock out any obstacle on this course."

A buzzer echoed within the training room, and a burly-looking officer with a clipboard called out, "Trainee Smith, step forward and prepare to begin!"

One of the orange-uniformed figures stepped up to the starting mark. When the gun went off, he proceeded to run at full speed towards the other end of the room. In front of him, the floor began to open and form a pit, which he nimbly leapt over. However, as he landed, some mechanized bats swooped out from enclaves in the wall and began firing stun bolts at him. He rolled onto the ground and fired his pistol multiple times, managing to hit two of the bats. They deactivated and fell, but one still remained. Figuring he could let it chase him—and he was faster than it—he ran forward, vaulting himself over the small fake hill that began to rise from the floor. Laser beam turrets suddenly sprang to life, and he valiantly tried to dodge each and every blast, but one of the last bolts nicked his foot, causing him to stumble, and at that moment the mechanical bat fired a bolt at the man's helmet, causing disqualification. Another buzzer sounded, indicating that this man had failed the run.

"Wow," Johanson remarked, "That looks pretty intense,"

"Well, it has to be," O'Hayre responded. "We want to make sure that any soldiers we send into action are the cream of the crop."

Johanson and O'Hayre watched a few more obstacle course runs, each one resulting in failure of one kind or another: either a fall into a pit, a bolt to the helmet; one trainee even had a laser beam go into the opening for his eyes. It didn't injure him, but it knocked him out cold for several minutes.

Johanson sighed. "I think I've seen enough, Director," he began.

But O'Hayre put his hand on Johanson's shoulder. "Just wait one more out," he said excitedly. "I think you'll be impressed with this one."

"Trainee Aran, take your mark!" The burly officer ordered.

The trainee stepped up to the starting mark, and took off immediately after the gun. Johanson was amazed as the figure leapt over the pit in a somersault, then knocked out all three of the mechanical bats with only one shot each. The figure then catapulted over the hill, and as the laser beam turrets activated, leapt high and landed on the nearest one. Then, as the opposite one fired, leapt away, destroying the first one. This process was repeated across the entire laser field, destroying each turret. A huge wall began to come together from opposite sides of the room. Extra speed was picked up, and the gap was somersaulted through just in time. Landing on the mat at the other end, two high pitched beeps were heard as the two final turrets took aim. In a dazzling move, the figure leapt up in between them, then did a heavy downward body weight shift, and fell out of harms way just as the two turrets destroyed each other. A green lamp flashed on the wall flashed, and there was cheering from the other trainees.

"That one's the best out of all the trainees we've had in the past two years," O'Hayre said proudly.

"I can see that," Johanson replied. "I'm very impressed. Let me go down and speak with him."

"Yes sir."

Johanson and O'Hayre walked down the long staircase from the observation room down into the training room and approached the burly officer.

"Commander Johanson would like a word with Trainee Aran," O'Hayre beamed.

The officer simply grunted, turned, and called, "Aran, somebody to see you."

Trainee Aran came striding over, and Johanson said, "I'm Commander Johanson from the Federation," he said, offering his hand. "It's a great pleasure to meet you, Mr. Aran."

"Excuse me?" asked a voice from within the helmet that sounded quite different than what Johanson was expecting. With a swift motion, Aran took off the helmet, revealing herself to be a stunning young woman. The blonde hair, which had been clumped under the helmet, she now tossed behind her. "Do I look like a 'mister' to you?"

Johanson was visibly startled. Although not by choice, all the past heroes of the Federation had been men; it was just something that was grown accustomed to over time.

"Well, I can see I've charmed you silent," she remarked with a laugh.

O'Hayre quickly covered for Johanson's silence by saying, "Miss Aran, the Commander was very impressed with your performance on the obstacle course. He thinks you may have potential as a Federation soldier."

"Is that right?" Samus asked, turning back to Johanson.

"Yes, it is," Johanson answered. "Not to be partial, but as you were the only one who passed the obstacle course, I think I'd like to observe you further for a few days. If all works out, you could be the next Federation soldier."

"Wow… I don't really know what to say," Samus said, taking a deep breath.

"Kind of a pattern when the Federation takes notice of the trainees," the burly officer said with a smirk.

"Hey!" Samus said indignantly, snapping her head back to face him.

Quickly interjecting, Johanson said, "I think it would be best for you to go about your exercises as usual. Just pretend I'm not here."

"I don't see how that will be possible," the officer remarked, "Seeing as how the whole facility is thrown into an uproar by your visit." He gestured to the remaining trainees, who were standing around talking to each other or leaning against the wall, ignoring Johanson completely.

Johanson adjusted his tie and said, "I'm going to report back to Mr. O'Hayre. Miss Aran, I'll be looking forward to seeing your progress. And the importance of my task here quells the need for any sarcasm in that statement." He finished this with a sidelong glance at the officer, who grimaced.

Samus smiled. "Thanks! I hope I can live up to your expectations." She then jogged off to speak with her fellow trainees.

Johanson re-entered the stairwell and climbed back up to the observation room to find Buck O'Hayre speaking with another gentleman. He was about six feet tall and broadshouldered, with a thick mustache and a haircut that made the top of his head seem flat.

"Ah, Commander," Buck said, noticing Johanson, "This is someone I'd like you to meet. Commander Johanson, this is Major Adam Malkovich. Malkovich, Johanson."

"It's a pleasure," Malkovich said, extending his hand and shaking Johanson's hard.

"Adam just stopped by to discuss his next assignment. According to HQ, he'll be supervising whichever soldier you select from here." O'Hayre explained.

"That's excellent," Johanson said, nodding. "Although I'm not sure what the mission will be."

"Then we're in the same boat," Malkovich said.

"The trainees will be taking target practice next, if you want to observe," O'Hayre said, picking up a clipboard.

"Of course." Johanson said. "Lead the way."


End file.
